


The Sons of the House of Ri

by Thorinsmut



Series: the House of Ri [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, Complete, Dori and Nori survive Smaug, Dori tries to be a good brother, Failed Relationship, Family Feels, Gen, I'm very mean to Dori, Life is hard, M/M, Misgendering, Nonbinary Dwarves, Pre-Canon, Trans Character, begins and and ends in Erebor, brothers make everything better, but ends on hope, really sad, starts off sad, teen parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsmut/pseuds/Thorinsmut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the House of Ri of the line of Durin was a proud house before the Dragon came.<br/>After Smaug, it was just two children, Dori and Nori.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wool Shawl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Partially inspired by the album Family Tree: The Roots by Radical Face
> 
> PLEASE READ THE TAGS  
> this is not a happy story.

It was just the two of them who survived.

Their mother tucked Nori into Dori's arms and sent them on ahead, and did not make it out of the Mountain herself.

They were not the only children made orphans that day, not by any means. More care had been taken to help children than anyone else, and Dori sometimes wondered if their mother had known that when she sent them off. If she had known that she would not see them again.

“Take care of Nori,” she'd said, her final words to Dori as she wrapped her favorite shawl around them and sent Dori running off.

Dori and Nori were not the only children made orphans that day, not the only ones who were the last survivors of their houses. There was no room to mourn when _everyone_ mourned and everyone was busy just trying to _survive_.

Dori was not the only one who's braids changed in the camp, not the only one who set aside who they'd been to become who was needed... though he took the chance to do so faster than most. Skirts were torn into rags, into bandages, unsewn and remade into jackets and trousers.

In the misery of the camps no one looked too closely, no one asked questions, and it was easy to say “we are the _sons_ of the house of Ri”. If anyone remembered differently, they did not say. Dori was not the only one in the camp who's braids changed. There was no room there for the sweet princess of a daughter his father had so desperately wanted.

They stuck together in the refugee camps. The last of their house, it would be far too easy to lose who they were if they did not have each other.

Dori was big and strong enough that, with a little care, he could seem like an adult and get work. He took any work he could and scraped together the pennies to keep himself and Nori fed, and in the cold of night they huddled together under their mother's soft wool shawl and they did not speak.

Dori's braids grew rough and ragged, though he took care of himself as best he could. Nori laughed and played in the dirt and rocks with the other little ones, gap-toothed and laughing in his patched clothes, and Dori mourned for the pride of a house that Nori would never remember.

 

They left the refugee camps. Dori carried the heavy pack of tinker's tools he'd bartered _so hard_ for, and brave little Nori carried what few other things they owned.

No one noticed, no one cared, all too wrapped up in their own sorrow.

They walked away hand in hand. Dori lead and Nori followed, laughing and nattering on about something or other, and Dori smiled at him.

“Take care of Nori.” his mother had charged him, and he _would_.

The wider world _had_ to be better than the camps.

 

Dori's manners from his previous life in Erebor served him well as he learned how to bow and smile and keep his temper firmly in check while working in the towns of Men.

He made enough to feed them... most of the time.

He made sure there was enough for Nori, _always,_ but still he could hardly blame anyone but himself when his little brother grew sly and sneaky – when they left a town and Nori would smile and show him things in his pack that they had never purchased. Food and blankets, at first – later small amounts of copper and silver that Dori could use as tinkering supplies to mend pots and plates.

Dori could not always be there to protect him, and he could blame no one but himself when little Nori took to carrying concealed knives that he'd never purchased either.

Dori mourned for every stolen thing Nori gave him with that sweet smile, but he did not tell him to stop.

They could not afford it.

 

They finally found a place to settle, a grungy waypost town with a mixed population of Men and Dwarves, and Dori finally had enough work that Nori did not need to steal anymore.

It was too late by then.

Nori would not stop, and refused to try any of the honest trades Dori begged him to learn. They fought over it, again and again, until one day Nori shook his head with tears in his eyes and walked out of their tumbledown shack of a house.

He did not come back.

Dori was alone, and he had _failed_ in the last thing their mother had ever asked of him.

He took his mother's shawl out of the trunk at the foot of the bed and curled up under it to weep.

 

He saw Nori, now and then, surrounded by other sly-faced knife-carrying Dwarves and Men.

Nori never acknowledged Dori.

When Dori would have come up to _him_ , he shook his head in brief warning, a flash of something like fear in his eyes before he was laughing with his companions again... and Dori let him be.

 

It was very late one night, _years_ later, when there was a pounding on the front door.

Dori had not expected to see his brother, Nori's hair in tatters and a smear of blood on his face, hunched in on himself under a big dark cloak.

Dori stepped back, holding the door wide, and Nori stepped through, not meeting his eye. For all he was _still_ no more than a child he moved like an old Dwarf in what could only be exhaustion.

“Are you hurt?” Dori asked, lighting a candle.

“No,” Nori said hoarsely, still hunched in and hidden under his cloak, still not looking at Dori. “I... Dori...”

Whatever he was going to say, he was interrupted by the weak cries of an infant.

They both froze. Dori stared at Nori's cloak, where the sound was coming from, and Nori finally looked up at Dori, wide-eyed with his bottom lip trembling.

After a long moment Dori turned away. He stirred up the fire and put a few fresh lumps of coal in the stove, and placed a teakettle on top to heat, before sitting down in the kitchen chair and making a _continue_ motion.

Nori shrugged out of his cloak. The infant was a tiny rag-wrapped bundle in his arms. The baby was placed reverently in Dori's hands, a ginger-haired little thing that couldn't be more than a few weeks old.

Nori sagged the rest of the way to the floor, kneeling on the stones by Dori's feet, his face pressed to Dori's knees.

The baby looked _just_ like Nori had. The same pursed little lips, the same lumpy little nose, the same hair, just a little lighter. The baby's fists were clenched, crying in sharp little hiccuping burst, tears standing in the corners of tight-clenched-closed eyes.

Dori instinctively brought the baby up to his shoulder, rocking back and forth as he hummed, rubbing the tiny back soothingly.

Nori was pressed tight to his legs, face hidden. Nori was still a child himself, he was too _young_.... Dori placed a hand on Nori's shoulder as the baby finally soothed and stilled, comforting his brother too. "The one who bore?” he asked quietly, and Nori shook his head.

“Dead,” he whispered.

“...a name?” Dori asked, and Nori shook his head again.

“He doesn't have one,” he answered to Dori's knees.

The baby whimpered and made little smacking sounds with his lips, and Dori lay him on his lap and gave him a finger to nurse on. Who knew how long it had been since the poor little thing had eaten? A little oat gruel would hold him over, once the water was boiling, but he was going to need _milk_.

“...we have to leave here, this town,” Nori said quietly toward Dori's shins, and Dori held him as tight as he could.

What had Nori gotten himself mixed up in?

A tiny hand wrapped around one of Dori's fingers to hold tight, blue eyes looking foggily up at him... such a sweet little thing. No one deserved a start like this, the orphaned son of a child. No one needed that shame following them through life, not the baby and not Nori. His mother's last words had been to take care of Nori, and Dori _would_.

He leaned to the side, the house small enough that he could pluck his mother's shawl from the foot of the bed from sitting in the kitchen chair. Nori watched him as he wrapped the baby up in the soft worn wool, the faded old square the most precious thing they owned.

“Ori,” Dori named, stroking a soft cheek that was not near as plump as it ought to be. “Ori, son of the house of Ri.” He caught Nori's eye for a moment before he continued. “Our mother died in childbirth. She had never been strong after the Dragon and the refugee camps, and had thought herself past bearing age. Her love, the comfort of her old age, was killed in an Orc raid early in her pregnancy, and the sorrow of it weakened her further. It is left to us, his _brothers_ , to raise Ori, the youngest son of the house of Ri.”

“Ori,” Nori repeated, nodding, and he almost smiled at Dori.

No one would look too closely, no one would ask questions. If anyone remembered differently they would not say. Stranger things had happened among the refugees of Erebor.

“I hear the King is founding a city in the Blue Mountains. Ered Luin,” Dori said. He stood and looked around the tiny house, categorizing everything by what they could and couldn't carry with them. Nori held to the edge of the table to lever himself to his feet and began packing while Dori made oat gruel for Ori.

“We'll need a milk goat,” Dori said, when the baby would eat no more. He began helping rearrange things to make a more balanced pack for Nori.

“I can get one,” Nori said quietly, and Dori knew that it was not a _bought_ goat he meant. But could they have afforded one, even if they _weren't_ leaving town secretly in the middle of the night?

Dori nodded, resting his forehead against his brother's, and Nori's tired eyes closed, leaning hard against Dori. Dori held him, held them both, his brother and...

...no.

His brother _s_ , middle and youngest.

The sons of the house of Ri.

They would continue surviving, and Dori would respect his mother's final request to care for his brothers.

And someday the house of Ri would find their honor again.


	2. everything we have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is still hard, people are not nice, and this is still not a happy fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!WARNINGS!!!  
>  This chapter contains SEXUAL HARASSMENT and a person presenting as a gender they are not at the same time, and may be very triggering.  
> also burglary/vandalism.  
> READ WITH CAUTION

They didn't make it to Ered Luin.

There was a town on the southern tip of the Blue Mountains, and by the time they reached it they could go no further. Fall was approaching and it was growing too cold to travel with tiny Ori.

They settled there, finding a small apartment carved into the mountain, and by spring Dori had enough work that they did not move on Dori did his tinkering work with Ori in a sling on his back. His youngest brother was a good baby, very quiet.

His middle brother, Nori...

They fought still, of course. Nori would not do honest work, but he was a _good_ brother to little Ori. Most days he was at home when Dori was done with work, with food simmering over the stove and ready to play with Ori.

It was a good life the sons of the house of Ri had made themselves there. It was not easy, but there were enough travelers passing through who needed little repairs done to their tack and kit for Dori to keep food in the pantry.

All Dori knew about what Nori did was that it was not honest work. He traveled to other nearby towns a few times a year and came back with things he shouldn't have – useful items, thick wool blankets and spices and dried foods that would last well and supplement what Dori could provide, and if Dori ever needed a few coins for an unexpected expense they would appear on the kitchen counter during the night.

He and Nori still fought, but Dori was careful now. He didn't want to drive Nori away again.

“You'll get caught someday,” he hissed, quietly so as not to wake little Ori. “and don't come crying to _me_ when you are!”

Nori chuckled softly, a bright gold coin dancing through the quick fingers of his right hand. “You're assuming I've never _been_ caught.” He smirked. “Jails can't hold _me_.”

Dori hid his face in his hands so he wouldn't yell at Nori, so he wouldn't say things that would make him leave again.

“Don't expect my help if you ever _can't_ get out,” he finally warned, “and whatever you do, don't you _ever_ drag the name of our house down with you.”

“As if I _would_ ,” Nori scoffed, disappearing the gold coin somewhere and pressing a brief kiss to Dori's cheek before sauntering off to bed.

Dori tried go get Nori to stop and told him, over and over again, not to expect his help if he were ever caught. Over and over again Nori told him not to worry.

Nori was gone on one of his trips and Dori was working, repairing an ox harness for a traveler while Ori drew in the dirt with a stick beside him, when the Dwarf approached him. The stranger was scruffy, his beard in ragged tangles and his clothes threadbare.

He did not seem the kind of Dwarf who would seek the services of a tinker.

“He said to give you this,” the Dwarf said, glancing around shifty-eyed before holding his hand out, something hidden in his palm.

Curious, Dori held his hand out, and the stranger dropped something light into it.

A knot, and Dori could feel something freezing in his chest. Nori's hair, unmistakeably, tied in Nori's hand – the style of the house of Ri Dori had made sure his brother knew.

 _Help_ was all it said.

Dori's hand closed over it, sickness twisting in his stomach... he couldn't... he couldn't get enough _air_ in his lungs...

 _Nori_...

“Dori?” Ori grabbed onto his arm, looking up at him worriedly, and that finally snapped Dori out of his shock.

“Where?” he asked, and the unkempt stranger told him town and jail, and how much they would want for a bribe to let him out.

 

That afternoon Dori was sitting on the back of the cart of a friendly Man who'd offered him a ride, little Ori beside him, a needle flashing through his fingers as he made a few modifications to his spare set of clothes.

He had small stashes of coins hidden all about his person – he wasn't _Nori,_ but he knew enough to know you didn't carry _that much_ money all in one place.

He tried not to think of the stripped-bare apartment he'd left behind, almost everything they owned sold.

 

The Dwarf who stopped outside the ugly little jail looked as unlike Dori as he could make himself look. He pinned his last braid in place and tugged at his hastily modified clothes, trying not to _think_ about the way they were making him look.

He swung little Ori up onto his hip.

“Whatever happens, don't say a word,” he instructed. “You have to be quiet, even if things are scary or don't make sense.”

Ori nodded and tugged at one of his own unfamiliar braids, big brown eyes worried.

Dori gave him a little smile before lifting his head high, dropping his shoulders back, and moving gracefully through the door of the jail like the princess he'd once tried _so hard_ to be.

It was _horrible_.

He _hated_ the way the guards' eyes felt on his body, the way they leered at him and tried to be _so helpful_.

It was embarrassingly easy to let his eyes fill with tears as he haggled, and he blinked quickly so his lashes were coated in diamond drops as he _begged_ for Nori.

He was careful. He didn't know what name Nori might have given them, or what he might have told them. He didn't know who they would assume he and Ori were to Nori.

It was Ori who sold the act, his own eyes filling with tears as he watched Dori cry. He held tight to Dori's neck and hardly made a sound beyond quiet little sniffles. It was looking at little Ori that the guard finally relented and settled for a price that _wasn't_ everything Dori had – not that Dori would admit that he had a _penny_ more to his name than he'd agreed to pay.

He paid up while two of the guards went to get Nori, and the guard in charge leaned close, leering at him. “Not sure what you want with a twisty little bastard like him, wouldn't even _marry_ you,” he said, blatantly trying to peek down the front of Dori's clothes. “Pretty thing like you, you deserve someone who'll take care of you. A proper father for the little one...”

Dori shifted Ori in his arms and turned away, forcing himself to hide the revulsion he felt. If he angered the guard, who's to say he wouldn't keep Nori and the bribe both? There was no way Dori could come up with a second bribe, so he held his tongue and kept his thoughts to himself.

The guard _smacked his bottom_.

Dori's entire body went tight with rage, fighting the overwhelming urge to turn and tear the guard limb from limb for the insult.

Nori was brought in, sagging and bruised between the guards, naked relief in his eyes – and Dori's anger and disgust hit him full in the face.

Nori closed his eyes between one heartbeat and the next, and Dori's brother was _gone._ A door had closed behind his eyes and a fake expression masked his face as he stumbled over to bury his face between Ori and Dori's neck. Dori wrapped an arm around him, held him close.

“ _That wasn't for you,_ ” he wanted to say, he couldn't say in front of the guards. _“It wasn't for you, I love you... I am_ angry _at you but I_ love _you._ ”

“Let's go,” Nori said quietly, and Dori nodded. They left together. Dori pointedly ignored the snide comments of the guards, and _hated_ everything about what he'd had to do.

“This way,” Nori said when they were outside, leading them away to a nearby quiet alley. “No, no, no,” he said, touching the wrong braids in Dori's hair, not meeting his eyes. “You shouldn't _ever_ have to...”

It was... it _must_ be safe enough here to fix how he looked because he couldn't bear this even a _moment_ longer. Dori put Ori down and ripped at the hastily sewn darts in his tunic, a whimper escaping his throat without permission.

“Help me,” he demanded. Nori handed him a sharp little razor to cut his seams and tuged awkwardly at his braids with one hand. The thread gave under the razor and it was a _little_ better. Dori crossed his arms across his chest, _needing_ to get back to his things, to get back to the clothes he hadn't broken, the clothes that made him look like _himself_.

He almost snapped at Nori, asking him _what_ was taking so long with his hair. Nori who was usually so _fast_ with braids, it seemed cruel that he would be slow only now when Dori needed his help the most – but he held it back. He didn't want to risk pushing Nori any further away.

“Ouch,” Ori said quietly, reaching for Nori's right hand.

“No touching,” Nori said, lifting his hand. It was swollen and aching-purple with bruises.

His hand... they _broke his hand_ , the _bastards._ No wonder he hadn't been able to escape the way he said he usually was able to.

“Nori!” Dori started, his voice coming out too hard, sharp in his distress.

“I _know!”_ Nori interrupted miserably, “It won't happen again.” He grabbed the razor out of Dori's fingers and scaled the nearest wall one-handed, disappearing out into the dark.

“Noriii!” Ori called after him, but he didn't answer. Dori finished fixing his braids so they didn't say things he was not. He picked Ori up – holding him tight as he made his way back to where he'd left their belongings.

“You did very good Ori,” he told his youngest brother. “You did just what you were supposed to do.”

“...but Nori?” Ori asked, big eyes wide and his bottom lip trembling.

“Nori will be fine. He knows how to take care of himself,” Dori lied with a smile. “Now sleep, we'll start for home tomorrow.”

 

The front door he'd left locked was hanging open, and Dori's heart fell into his boots.

He didn't know _what_ the burglars thought they would find. The sons of Ri had never done more than just _survive_ , they had no wealth, but the few things he'd left behind had been torn to shreds.

The curtains had been torn down, the few pieces of rickety furniture broken into bits, the lumpy straw mattress from the bed split and scattered everywhere. The tools of his tinkering trade had been scattered, the box that usually held them broken – thought it looked as though most of his tools were there and unbroken. At least he _already_ hadn't had any silver in there. He'd sold it for coin to get Nori free.

He stood frozen in the doorway for long moments with Ori trembling in his arms as he looked at the wanton destruction of the _so few_ things he owned. It was the shawl that broke him. Their mother's old wool shawl, muddied and torn on the floor. He picked it up carefully, clutching it tight in his fingers and trying to stay strong for Ori.

They had the little money Dori had managed to haggle the jail guard down from, and a small bag of gold that had appeared in his pack that could only have come from Nori. It would have to be enough.

He couldn't stay here, he _couldn't_ , and he could find work almost anywhere.

“Help me pick my tools up,” he said, setting Ori down and kissing his forehead. “And then we're going to move to Ered Luin, where the King lives.”

It _had_ to be better in Ered Luin... didn't it?

Ori nodded and began gathering the bent and battered tools, and Dori sat with his tool box and tried to see if it could be repaired.

And Dori did not cry.


	3. Ered Luin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things were better in Ered Luin - until they weren't.  
> This is still a sad fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!WARNING!!!  
>  for failed courtship due to misgendering.  
> -not sure how else to warn, if there's a better way let me know.

Things were better in Ered Luin.

Within a few years Dori was able to, with only a _little_ help from Nori, buy a small shop with an adequate apartment carved into the mountain behind it.

Nori had found them in their first week of travel on the road north, sitting beside the fire one morning when Dori and Ori woke up.

“Ered Luin?” he'd asked – tickling Ori left-handed, and touching nothing with his carefully bandaged right hand. He nodded when Dori confirmed it. When Dori tried to tell him that it hadn't been _Nori_ he was angry at, he shook his head and left, and Dori's explanation was left hanging unheard on his lips.

Nori was not with them as much anymore, in Ered Luin.

“I want us to be able to _stay_ here,” Dori explained when Nori was helping them move into the apartment behind his new shop. “I want to be able to raise Ori _here,_ in Ered Luin.”

Nori paused from juggling a coin between the fingers of his left hand and nodded – he'd become obsessed with being as good left-handed as right ever since he'd had his hand broken. “I won't do anything in Ered Luin,” he promised, and that was likely as good an promise as Dori could get from him.

Things were better for their family in Ered Luin. Dori had his little tinker shop with his sign out front listing the things he could repair and got enough business to keep himself and Ori well fed and clothed, and even enough to send Ori to school when he was old enough for it.

Dori had done the best he could with Nori. His middle brother could read and write and do sums, and knew the basic history of their people, but it was such a relief to be able to send Ori to a real school to learn from actual teachers.

Ori _loved_ school, and he did well enough that his teachers suggested he be apprenticed as a scribe with Master Balin. He was so clever, Ori, just like Nori, and Dori wondered how Nori might have turned out if he'd been able to provide _him_ with a steady home and schooling.

The family of Fundin had been friends with the house of Ri in Erebor, though they had not been in contact since. Dori did not expect to have that old association count for anything, but when Dori and Ori came to Balin's house they were greeted like old friends and ushered in to have tea with Balin.

Little Ori was instantly charmed by white-bearded Balin, who looked over the recommendations of his teachers and examples of his work and told him that he had a strong foundation to build on.

Dori and Balin haggled very hard and very politely over the price of the apprenticeship, and Balin's eyes were crinkled up at the edges in a smile when they were done, though Dori had gotten the better end of the deal.

Balin clasped both of their hands before they left, and Ori returned it solemnly. He was trying so hard to be good and quiet even though he clearly wanted to bounce all over the place in his excitement over his apprenticeship.

Balin's touch lingered on Dori's hand. “You will come again for tea, Dori?” he asked.

Dori smiled and inclined his head _just_ the right amount, his courtly manners not forgotten even after so many years. “Only if you will do the same, Balin,” he answered, and tried not to blush at how Balin brightened at his acceptance.

 

Things were good in Ered Luin.

Little Ori worked hard at his apprenticeship, and Nori would watch him practicing in the evening with a mixture of pride and wonder, when he was around. He took to bringing Ori scribe supplies – only things they could have _possibly_ purchased.

“I'm careful,” he told Dori. “I'm _very_ careful.” That was the best he could hope for, from Nori – though Nori's definition of 'very careful' still had him coming home to Ered Luin to rest and nurse injuries far too frequently.

Dori's little shop did well. He was _the one_ you came to for a tricky repair or when you needed something restored to better than new.

...and Balin and Dori frequently shared tea.

Dori hadn't spared a thought for courtship since the fall of Erebor, but well-dressed Balin with his fine white beard and kind manner was...

...well...

Dori was _greatly_ enjoying their time together.

They spoke sometimes of Erebor, of how life had been there, of the great houses they'd known – the houses of Ta and Li and Ar lost to the last Dwarf, others reduced to just a few scattered Dwarves like the house of Ri had been.

Though the house of Li was already being reestablished, with Lady Dis' Fili and Kili, and Gloin's young Gimli.

There was no rush in Dori and Balin's courtship. They gave each other _small_ gifts. Dori might bring over a few sweet biscuits for tea, or repair some small broken thing in Balin's house, or make a new set of knitted fingerless gloves for Balin in the winter to keep his hands warm while he wrote. Balin might bring over a little jar of the golden honeycomb Dori loved for his tea so much, or some fresh fruit when it was in the market, or some little tool or other Dori could use for his tinkering. They spent many very enjoyable evenings talking together.

Things were going well... until they weren't.

Nori had taken Ori out for a few hours and Balin had come over to visit, bringing a small tin of jasmine tea for Dori. Dori cracked it open and just _breathed_ the scent of the tea. It had been his mother's _favorite,_ he could remember sitting on her knee to steal a sip from a delicate gold-rimmed teacup.

“Oh...” he breathed, “My _mother_ drank this...”

Balin smiled, clearly pleased that his present had been well received. "I remembered that."

Dori sat beside him, and held his hand, their fingers fitting together perfectly. Balin's held the strength of a warrior tempered by the delicacy of a scribe, Dori's the rough but nimble fingers of a tinker.

Balin gently stroked the back of Dori's hand with his thumb. “It's a good home we've made ourselves here in Ered Luin, a good place for a family to live,” Balin said, and Dori would have agreed if Balin hadn't given his hand a squeeze and continued, poison falling from his lips in that same warm soft tone. “You don't have to hide who you _are_ anymore, here. It's not like in the camps.”

The _only_ good thing that came of the camps was not having to hide who he was, the ability to be _himself_ instead of who his father wanted him to be. No one was _supposed_ to look too closely, no one was supposed to _say_ if they remembered differently. That was the unspoken rule of the survivors, _why_ was Balin abandoning it now?

“Your mother is not on the list of those who survived the dragon,” Balin contined, perhaps mistaking Dori's shocked silence for acceptance of his words. “And sweet little Ori.... Life is hard enough, I understand why you would make that tale and call him a brother. If we wed, I would claim him as my own. You could finally raise him as your son, _our_ son. No one would think oddly of the changed story – stranger things happened among the refugees! _Will_ you marry me, Dori? We can join our houses and raise up little brothers and sisters to Ori, make the house of Ri _strong_ again!”

That... _that_ was too much. The very _thought_ repulsive enough for Dori to finally remember how to _move_. He jerked his hand out of Balin's grip. “...get out of my house.” It came out a bare whisper.

“Dori?” Balin reached for him, confusion in his tone.

Dori sprang to his feet. He grabbing the tin of jasmine tea, and the half-empty little jar of honeycomb, and the market-basket - everything he could see that Balin had given him - and shoved them into his arms. “If _that_ is what you think of me,” Dori snapped, grabbing Balin's arm and hauling him bodily toward the door. “Then you can take your presents and _get out of my house_ and _never come back!_ ”

He opened the front door and deposited Balin on the step.

“Good day,” he said coldly, and closed the door in the older Dwarf's face. He locked it. He walked back through his little shop and into the apartment, slamming that door shut and locking it too for good measure, before he crumpled to the floor to cry.

It wasn't _fair_.

Dori was _not_ a dam. He'd never _been_ , no matter how badly his father had wanted him to be. He knew, now, that all his trying to be what his father wanted _always_ would have come to nothing. He could not bear the idea of acting the wife of anyone. He wore the braids of a male now, why would he if he _wasn't_ one? Why would anyone think he was lying? He didn't even wear the braids of a bearer, though he did technically possess the ability. Why would he claim something he would never do, that made him sick just to _think_ of?

Nothing in Dori's hair or dress said he was anything but male now, but despite that Balin had been courting him as a _dam,_ as a mother for his children.

It _was not fair_.

Dori pressed his sleeve to his eyes, trying to pull himself together and failing, failing miserably.

...and what he'd said of Ori! Is that what people thought of them, of Dori? He'd never even let himself be _courted_ before.

Of _course_ they would. Nori had been so _young_ , and how rare was it for anyone but the bearer to raise a child? Nevermind that Ori looked just like a young Nori and nothing like Dori.

It was not fair, it was not _fair_... but he couldn't be too angry, not about Ori. Dori could never have made a different decision than to raise Ori, precious sweet child. If he'd ever _wanted_ to have a child, he could not have asked for a better one than Ori.

If people were going to think that Dori had borne a child, at least it was _Ori_ , a son _anyone_ would be proud of. But how could they _think_ that of Dori? That he would _do_ that?

He was still there, collapsed against the wall trying to stop crying, when Nori and Ori came home.

“and that's how you pick a lock _left-_ handed,” Nori said quietly, opening the door. “just don't tell Dori...” Nori broke off as they saw him. Dori turned his face away, trying to hide it, but they'd already _seen_ that he was crying.

“Dori?” Ori was the first at his side, his inkstained fingers petting Dori's hair as he lay his head on his shoulder. “Dori what's wrong?”

“Balin...” Dori tried, closing his eyes against his tears. “Balin and I will _not_ be courting any longer.”

Ori made a small sound of distress, hugging Dori tight, and Nori was at Dori's other side, a hand resting on his shoulder.

“What did he do?” There was a quiet danger under Nori's voice, his eyes very hard and bright as he pressed the cuff of his sleeve to Dori's cheeks, wiping away his tears.

Dori explained, _very_ briefly, leaving the worst for the moment when Ori darted off to Dori's room for their mother's old shawl. Dori had repaired it, sewn it carefully back together and backed it with a soft wool fabric to preserve it. It was more new than original now but _still_ the most precious thing they had, other than each other. Ori curled into Dori's lap and wrapped them both up in it, and Dori held him.

“I'll kill him.” Nori stood, fists clenched and his jaw tight. “I'll kill him. I'll choke him to death with his own stones and I'll...”

“Don't,” Dori said quietly. With anyone else he would have thought it was just _talk_ , but with Nori he didn't know.

All the hardness in Nori evaporated as he knelt by Dori's side. “ _No one's_ allowed to hurt you,” he said, soft and a little lost.

“I know.” Dori tugged him in to lean on his side, spreading a corner of the shawl over him.

His brothers... he had his brothers and they _loved_ him, and he was finally able to stop crying.

Ori squirmed a little, rearranging himself so he could pet Dori's hair comfortingly.

Dori nuzzled Ori's neck a little, making his youngest brother giggle at the tickling of his beard. “You know I would love you just the same if you were a boy or a girl, or both, or neither, or something else?” he asked quietly.

Ori gave him a strange look, like he'd never even thought of it. “Of _course,_ ” he said. “But I'm a boy, like you and Nori.” He rearranged himself so he was snuggling both his elder brothers, holding them together.

The sons of the house of Ri, always at their strongest _together,_ even curled up on the floor under their mother's shawl.

“I have my brothers,” Dori said. “I don't need anything else.”


	4. together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once, a chapter that does not attempt to remove your heart with a rusty spoon.

Nori was cursing when Gloin and Dwalin dragged him in to Dori's home. Gloin was looking a bit impressed by Nori's vocabulary, Dwalin stone-faced as usual.

“Nori!” Dori chastised.

Nori stopped cursing as Dwalin let him go, but then he turned and spit on the big warrior's boots so that wasn't much better. “I won't be _nice_ to them, Dori!” Nori snarled.

“Get your things,” Dwalin ordered, and Nori started yelling at him again, though this time without cursing.

“Nori has volunteered to join Thorin's quest for Erebor, in exchange for having his criminal record cleared,” Gloin explained to Dori, who was utterly lost.

“ _Volunteered!?”_ Nori scoffed. “Volunteered? Is that what they call abduction and threats these days? And all this time I thought a volunteer was someone who did things _voluntarily_.”

“The choice,” Dwalin started, and Nori interrupted him with a glare.

“And I've _told you_ I'd rather try my chances against an executioner. You're all going to die and I'm _not_ going with you. Lock me up, I don't care! You think I've never had my neck under the axe before?”

Gloin was saying something about Nori's criminal record, and Nori had reverted to cursing at Dwalin again, and Dwalin was growling something at Nori that Dori couldn't quite catch, and Dori had had _enough,_ thank you very much.

“Silence!” he shouted, slamming a hand on the table to make a loud bang, and everyone stopped. He let the ringing die down before he continued, very quietly.

“You are all in _my_ home, and you will behave yourselves. Nori, sit with me. Dwalin, Gloin, please take a seat, Ori, put the kettle on.”

Ori, who'd been watching wide-eyed from the corner, jumped up to obey while everyone else shuffled themselves into position. Ori sat on the other side of Nori, so he was hemmed in by his brothers, a united front to protect him.

“Now,” Dori said, fixing Gloin and Dwalin with his coldest glare. “One of you is going to explain to me, calmly, _what_ is going on here.”

They glanced at each other, and Gloin nodded.

Thorin had decided he wanted someone with a particular set of skills for his Company, and Nori had been decided on because he was apparently something of a criminal legend in the Blue Mountains. He was rarely caught and never successfully held – rumored to be able to go anywhere and acquire _anything_ , and no one knew who he was.

“Not in Ered Luin, though,” Dwalin added. “That's what put us on his scent. Figured he must live here.”

So they'd caught Nori, and Thorin had offered him the choice between joining his quest and having his record cleared, and execution for his crimes. Nori had, of course, chosen execution simply to be perverse.

The King had not accepted that decision, so here they all were.

“If you will excuse me,” Dori said, standing and taking Nori's arm, “I would like a word in private with my brother. Ori, some crackers and cheese for our guests? And some of those rosehip preserves, too, I think?”

Dwalin looked like he wanted to protest, but Dori gave him his _politest_ smile and closed the bedroom door behind them.

Nori hadn't looked so stiff and miserable since the time Dori had to bribe him out of jail.

“What do you need me to do?” Dori asked quietly. “Ori can probably hold them off for half an hour before they get suspicious of how long we're taking here. And if it comes down to it, Ori and I can probably fight them, keep them from chasing after you for a few minutes longer...”

Nori had gone very still, staring at Dori. “You would defy your king? for me?” he breathed, like he didn't believe it was real.

Dori smiled, idly straightening some of the wrinkles in Nori's jacket, “I would do _anything_ for you Nori, you know that? I _wish_ this wasn't happening. I wish I'd done better for you so you didn't grow up a thief. I wish you hadn't been caught. But you are my _brother,_ and I'll do _whatever_ you need me to do.”

Nori leaned forward until his forehead rested against Dori's, eyes closing as he took a few deep breaths. Dori wrapped his arms around his brother and just _held_ him. Who knew how long it might be before they could see each other again, if Nori had to flee Ered Luin with Thorin's own guard on his tail?

“All right,” Nori whispered. He leaned back and scanned the room, eyes darting back and forth in thought. “All right... all right...” His forehead wrinkled, and he hummed slightly as he scratched at the back of his neck. “Huh,” he said, like he was surprised at himself a little. “I think I'll go... if I actually have a _choice_.” Then his face hardened again. “No,” he changed his mind. “They have _Balin_ with them.” He sneered on the name.

“That mess was all long ago,” Dori told him gently. “You shouldn't base your decision on that.”

It _had_ been a very long time. Balin and Dori were not _friendly_ , but they were polite if they ever chanced to meet. Balin never failed to address him as _Master_ Dori, now, which he had never done while they were courting. Balin had given Dori a very thorough and prettily written apology letter, which Dori had read and then tossed into the fire. It had taken a long time, but he no longer felt the sharp grief and betrayal he once had. He had been very hurt and very angry, for a long time. For a time he'd even considered bringing Balin before the courts, but in the end he had chosen not to. Dori had moved on, and had courted a few very nice Dwarves in the meanwhile, though nothing had come of it. He knew that Balin's story was much the same.

“...are you sure?” Nori asked, seeming for a moment just like the trusting little brother who'd followed Dori from the camps, looking to him for everything.

“Think how easy it'll be to put sharp pebbles in his boots,” Dori suggested, and Nori grinned briefly.

“I'll keep my head down, just get it over with,” Nori decided. “... it could be _nice_ not to have a record.”

They left the bedroom together. Ori's relief at not being left alone with Dwalin and Gloin was obvious. Dori sat himself down and topped up his and Nori's tea cup while Nori sprawled across both Dori and Ori and picked his teeth with a nasty-looking knife he'd flicked out of his sleeve. It was terribly uncouth, but Dori couldn't find it in him to chide Nori for it at the moment.

Nori smiled at Dwalin and Gloin. “I'll go with you,” he said, as though granting them a great favor. “On a few conditions...”

 

Dori couldn't say he was surprised when he heard the sounds of someone trying to sneak out of the house unheard and stumbling into something in the dark with a quiet 'ouch'. He wrapped himself in his houserobe and lit a lamp, and then went out to see Ori bundled up in his biggest cardigan, armed with his slingshot, and carrying a small pack of his belongings. The look he gave Dori was extremely sheepish.

“I thought you might go,” Dori said, “but without even saying goodbye?”

“I left a note,” Ori tried, and wilted under Dori's raised eyebrow.

“Come.” Dori led the way to the kitchen and sat them down together in front of the dying fire. “Explain it to me.”

Ori picked at his knitted mitts, not meeting Dori's eye. “I _know_.” he said, quietly.

“What do you know?” Dori asked, but he had a feeling...

“I figured it out. You and Nori, the only stories you ever tell about our mother happen in Erebor,” Ori explained quickly. “I work with the records sometimes and she isn't _there_ , she didn't make it out. At first I thought maybe... but it has to have been _Nori,_ because of the goat.”

Terrible creature she'd been, the goat, but she'd given enough milk to keep Ori fed until he could eat other food.

“My clever boy,” Dori said gently, and Ori smiled slightly in relief.

“I want to know Nori better,” Ori said, “He's my brother and my... my sire? But he's always gone and I thought... I thought he's not doing anything illegal this time and I could go with him and we could keep each other safe, and even the King and the princes are going, so..?”

“I see.” Dori reached over to fondly tug on one of Ori's braids. “Let's get some sleep,” he suggested. “In the morning, we can go together.”

Ori squeaked and pounced on Dori with a hug, his smile huge. “Thank you,” he whispered.

 

They stood before Thorin. The King tryied to hide his surprise at their joining his quest, but Nori wasn't trying to hide his at all. “Why?” Nori demanded, speaking out of turn before the King.

It seemed Thorin had already gotten used to that, and did not try to correct him. He made an 'answer the question' gesture.

“No Dwarf of the house of Ri ever stands alone,” Dori answered firmly, to both Nori and the King. “The sons of the house of Ri are strongest together. We wish to take back Erebor, to make Ri a great and noble house once more. Or if we cannot, to stand by each other until the end.”

“We are the house of Ri,” Ori added proudly. “We would do _anything_ for our brothers.”

“The house of Ri has produced many brave warriors,” Thorin said warmly. “I see its strength has not failed. I would be honored to have you join my Company.”

Nori had turned his face away from the Company, but when his brothers saw him with no one else around he held them and would not let go.

“We're coming with you.” Ori said. “We couldn't let you go alone. We'll keep each other safe, Dori's right we're _always_ strongest together.”

Nori just nodded wordlessly, and held them tight.

 

When the sons of the house of Ri left Ered Luin in the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, they each had a piece of an old wool shawl stitched into their clothes somewhere – their mother's shawl binding them together, never leaving them.

They left to face the nightmare that destroyed their people, to meet their fate good or bad, _together_.


	5. Epilogue - Erebor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Return to where it began. 
> 
> I couldn't leave this story sad, so have a hopeful final chapter.

“Master Dori.” Balin bowed very politely. “May I have a private word?”

They had gotten along decently, during the quest. The awkward politeness had eventually given way to, if not exactly _camaraderie_ , at least a respect for each other's abilities. They could work together well, and considering how often the members of Thorin's Company were thrown together in Erebor, that was a good thing.

“Very well, Master Balin,” Dori accepted with a nod. "Will you walk with me?”

They walked companionably along the pathways of Erebor until they found privacy on a balcony overlooking the center of the Mountain, with the sounds of the repair crews echoing quietly through the space.

Balin leaned his elbows on the railing, looking out over what they'd all fought so hard to regain. “What I once wanted, and what I find I want _now,_ are very different things,” he said softly. “I find, looking back, that our time courting was some of the happiest I have known. There can be no excuse for how poorly I treated you, but I would like the chance to try again. To do it _right_. Can I hope to be granted that chance?”

Dori looked away from Balin's solemn face and considered the question. He had respect for Balin, but he did not know if he wanted to trust him so far as to court again. Caution seemed wise.

“I am male,” Dori said, stating a fact, setting a boundary that should never have been questioned but _had_ been.

“I _know_ that,” Balin answered. “My behavior was inexcusable. It would not happen again.”

“I am a busy Dwarf,” Dori stated next. “My responsibilities to the house of Ri and my brothers would always come first. I would not always have much time for courting.”

There was _so much_ to be done to make the house of Ri a powerful house once again, a force to be reckoned with. Three was too few to base their house on. Promising young Dwarves needed to be found and adopted in, and alliances formed and strengthened. Building the house of Ri to its former greatness or better was a difficult task, and a time-consuming one. Dori might not have the time for courting at all.

Balin nodded. “I have my responsibilities, too,” he said, “but they could be lighter shared. I am not inexperienced in the the maneuverings of houses, and an alliance between the family of Fundin and the house of Ri could be a benefit to both.”

That was true, but while Balin was an important Dwarf he was by no means the _only_ Dwarf in the Mountain with those skills. His was not the _only_ family it could be beneficial to have an alliance with.

“I have never... had an _interest_ in coupling,” Dori said, another boundary he had. He'd not known that when he and Balin courted, he'd been so inexperienced back then, but he'd learned it with the Dwarves he'd courted since. It was not _so_ rare a thing, but it was something anyone who thought they wanted to court him should know. “I am craft-wed and would never want for anything but what we had already shared.”

“Ah...” Balin said consideringly. He was silent in thought for a moment before nodding slightly. “As I said, the time we spent courting was some of the happiest I have known... to spent a life like that, talking and sharing small presents and closeness and tea with you... it does not sound _bad_ in any way. _Could_ I hope to be given the chance?”

Dori met Balin's bright blue eyes. “I do not know. I would have to think on it,” he answered truthfully, and Balin bowed.

“Then I will wait for your answer. Thank you for your time, Master Dori.”

“Good day, Master Balin,” Dori answered, and watched as the stately older Dwarf left.

He was a _very_ handsome Dwarf, and Dori respected him, and he had been polite – but he was not sure if he wanted to court him again.

Dori was not sure if he wanted to court right now at _all_. There was _so much_ to be done. Ori had earned his Mastery as a scribe with his record of the quest, and ought to be set up with apprentices of his own now, even as he began studies of history and law. Nori had work that made him laugh with his eyes shining bright whenever he mentioned it, though he would give no details. Whatever it was, it was likely only legal because he was doing it by direct order of the King, and possibly not even _then_. Finding Dwarves that they would _both_ agree with him were fit to be adopted into their house would likely be a challenge, but it would ensure that they chose only the finest, Dori was sure.

He leaned against the railing and looked over the Mountain, listening to the comfortingly hopeful sounds of the restoration crews echoing through it.

There were more Dwarves arriving every month, and the Head of the house of Ri, Hero of Erebor, had options that Dori the tinker had never had. If he let it be known that he was willing to be courted, he would no doubt have more offers than he knew what to do with. There were _many_ Dwarves with good manners and fine beards he might chose from now.

...but there was no hurry to make any choice at all.

Dori walked home, greeting friends and acquaintances as he went, until he reached the fine apartments he'd chosen for the house of Ri.

It smelled as though Nori was cooking something, which meant it would be simple and hearty and delicious. Nori and Ori's laughter drifted out from the kitchen, making Dori smile.

His eyes fell on a tapestry as he made his way to them, and he reached out to brush his fingers fondly along the soft wool.

It had once been a beautiful wool shawl, torn and stained and lovingly repaired over and over again. A mother's love guarding the sons of the house of Ri in all their years of exile, now painstakingly reassembled one final time and backed with fine cloth. It hung up proudly for any to see, below it embroidered a single word, the motto of the house of Ri reforged.

Unbroken.

And Dori smiled as he turned to join his brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this short series! Please let me know what you thought of it, either here or on tumblr (thorinsmut.tumblr.com). I'm shy but I love to hear from you! 
> 
> I'm going to be pretty scarce on the ground during November because I'm going to be participating in NaNoWriMo and working on original stuff for a change, but I have a few sides stories for this story and a bunch of prompts written already so I won't disappear entirely, and some big plans for stuff to write afterward! 
> 
> I love you all tons and bunches, you deserve purple hearts for slogging through this sadness,  
> <3,  
> Ts


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